


Mini Moose's Christmas

by orphan_account



Series: 12 Days of Ficlets [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, Wee!chesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-03-05 00:18:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3097934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set before Sam knew about the family business, Sam asks Dean one day why he doesn't get as many Christmas presents as all the other kids.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mini Moose's Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my 12 days of Ficlets over on tumblr (my URL is i-am-superwhomarvellocked if you'd like to check me out) and prompted by le-queen-of-moondoor, who wanted pretty much exactly what you see in the summary. This one was so sweet and fun to write and just ugh I love writing them as little/big brother.

When Dean got home from one of his hunts with Dad, Sammy was sitting at the table scribbling with crayons in a Mickey Mouse coloring book, messy brown head bent over the table in intense concentration. Dean dumped his backpack in the kitchen and glanced outside. It was December 24 and pouring snow, which had made the werewolf they'd been tracking almost impossible to find. The hunt had been bloody, long, and cold, and Dean was ready for a shower. But Sam's small six-year-old voice stopped him with one foot on the steps leading up to the bathroom.   
"Dean?" he said softly.   
Dean sighed, looking down at the dirt and blood all over his flannel shirt, and thought about the hot water and soap awaiting him. Then he turned around, walked over to the table, and pulled up a chair. "What's up, Sammy?"  
Sam kept his head down and kept coloring Mickey's shirt in. "What were you and Dad hunting?"  
"Deer, Sammy." Dean rubbed at the blood and dirt on his hands. "We didn't get any, though."  
"Okay."  
"What's really up, Sam?"  
Sam bit his lip. "Josh told me at school that Santa Claus always brings him lots of presents. But I only get one every year." He lifted his head and focused on Dean with his enormous puppy eyes. "I don't want to sound ungrateful, but why doesn't Santa bring me lots of presents?"  
Dean's heart twisted in his chest. Sammy looked so vulnerable, and yet so ashamed, as if he thought that asking for more presents was greedy and selfish. Clearly, he'd been working up the courage to ask Dean about this since before school let out for Christmas break, and Dean could see the fear in his eyes. The poor kid probably thought that he'd been so bad that Santa couldn't possibly give him any more than one present.   
"Is it because I'm on the naughty list?" Sam asked, tears filling his eyes.   
Dean bit back his own tears and shook his head firmly, wrapping his arms around Sam. "No, Sammy, definitely not. You're at the top of the nice list. It's just that..." he paused for a second, thinking. "You know," he said into Sam's hair, "the kids who are the best get the least presents."  
Sam sniffled and looked up at him. "That doesn't make any sense, Dean."  
Dean almost smiled at his stubbornness. "Sure it does, Sammy. Santa's busy working on a really cool present for you when you get older. It's just that the super awesome present takes a long time to make, and in the meantime he can only get you one present per year. It's because he knows you can wait for it."  
Sam snuggled against Dean's chest. "Are you sure?"  
Dean nodded. "Yeah. Santa told me himself. I don't know when he's giving you the big present, but I'm sure it'll be soon."  
Sam sighed quietly. "Okay, Dean."  
Dean gently unwrapped Sam's arms from him. "And now you've gotta eat and get to bed." He strode over to the stove and opened a can of tomato soup, which he heated up while Sam packed up his coloring stuff. When the soup was done, Sam ate obediently and then followed Dean to his bedroom. Dean tucked him in securely and switched on his Superman nightlight, then went to take a shower.  
For the next two years, Dean scrimped and saved to get Sam his present. Anything he could tuck away from pool, anytime John gave him any money (once in a blue moon), anything he could steal: all of it went into a jar marked simply "Sammy." Either Sam never found it, or he never asked about it.   
When Dean finally had enough, he went out and bought Sam a huge anthology of myths and legends from all over the world, and topped off the gift with a small book called 50 Crazy Laws of the United States that he thought Sam might like. He wrapped the gift clumsily (it wasn't exactly something he'd practiced) and hid it under the tree the year Sam turned eight.   
When Sam opened it on Christmas Day, the way his face looked made up for every second of penny-pinching and going without. He began flipping through the anthology excitedly, then set it down carefully and picked up the book of law. He opened it cautiously and read a bit of it, then put it down as well and closed his eyes.   
"Thank you, Santa," he intoned seriously. A huge grin spread across his face. He grabbed the books and ran off to his room, leaving Dean to open his own present (a tire iron--thanks, Dad). But he still smiled, thinking about Sammy finally having a really nice book to read.


End file.
